


the moon is always jealous of the heat of the day

by ChasingVulpixels



Category: Sense8 (TV)
Genre: F/F, enjoy this gaynesss, i ship everyone with everyone but saw no fics for these two so :), idk if it's super OOC but I tried, it's been a while since i watched
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-10-23 05:41:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10713366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChasingVulpixels/pseuds/ChasingVulpixels
Summary: just as the sun longs for something dark and deep.Sometimes running away means you're headed in the exact right direction.





	the moon is always jealous of the heat of the day

**Author's Note:**

> this story takes place over a few months. New paragraphs signal a jump in perspective or a jump in time. Happy reading!

The first time Kala awakens to the feeling of foreign sheets on her skin, she screams. She screams so loudly, in fact, that the white dog curled beside her skitters backwards in pure terror, ears flattened to its skull— and then it’s over. Kala is jolted back to her room, the smell of her father’s particularly popular _poha_ wafting up from the restaurant below, and the experience is almost entirely washed away. She shakes her head as if her brain was an etch-a-sketch, clearing away the imprint the experience had left on her mind and dismissing it as the end of a bizarrely detailed dream instead— although her heart continues to hammer in her chest, a thunderstorm beneath her ribs that doesn’t settle until well after midday.  


Sun claps a hand over her mouth, eyes wide in surprise at her outburst. The clock on her bedside table flashes: 04.28, it says, offensively neon in the darkness. Her dog looks cautiously up at her, tail wagging slightly as he approaches. She pats the bed beside her, an open invitation, but this time he takes a moment before joining her again. Sun runs a hand through his fur, gently stroking the particularly soft patches just behind his ears in an attempt to calm her nerves, unable to shake the feeling of… intrusion, somehow. She’s not usually like this, she keeps telling herself as she stares into the darkness, heart hammering, head spinning as her mind desperately searches for some sort of explanation. When she fails to find one, she sinks back into her pillow with a heavy sigh. The sensation of sunshine spreading across her back, equal parts welcome and confusing, lulls her to the brink of sleep, and as her eyes flutter closed, the faintest smell of onion and curry leaves seems to drift through her apartment. Sun turns over, drifting too deep into unconsciousness to question it, and enjoys the comfort she finds in the unfamiliar scent. 

 

The next time it happens, Kala does not scream— but only because she can’t. She sits in a business meeting, feigning attention while also fidgeting with the spoon from her teacup, amusing herself by looking at her distorted reflection in the back of it. She sees herself, tired and looking as bored as she feels— then she blinks, and the person staring back is no longer her. Instead, an asian woman with cropped black hair and a purple smudge of a bruise across her left cheekbone glares back, with a fierceness that forces Kala to look away. She is so startled that her knee hits the table when she jumps up, rattling cups on saucers and turning heads. She apologises, and avoids eye contact with her fiancé across the table as the meeting slowly resumes, but she cannot focus on what is being said. The head of the board continues to speak, his words washing over Kala as she desperately tries to rid her mind of the image, as well as the frightening possibility that she’s going insane, and the even more frightening possibility that part of Kala might want to see this girl again.  
  
Sun is staring at reflection in the glass face of her watch. She contemplates not going to work on account of her bruise, but she quickly abandons the idea when she realises that she _wants_ her father to know that she’s been back in the ring. That she’d disobeyed him, and that she didn’t care. Sun gazes at her bruise with a strange sense of satisfaction, and gently probes the tender flesh with her fingertips. The dull ache it produces is almost gratifying.   
  
Kala presses a hand to her cheek. Her skin seems hot and feels swollen for a moment, and she can taste blood from a phantom cut in her lip when she bites it. 

 

Sun’s gaze flickers back down to her watch face, and for a moment she sees someone other than herself in the reflection. Dark, curly hair, a strange intensity in her gaze, Sun is both startled by the woman and inexplicably drawn to her. The second thing she notices is that she appears to be in pain as she clutches her cheek, her eyebrows drawn together in a look of confusion, worry. Sun closes her eyes, clearing her head with a slow breath. When she opens them, the girl in the reflection is gone from the watch, but she spends the rest of the day residing in Sun’s thoughts. 

 

Kala turns the shower on, as high and as hot as the water will go. She quickly peels off her clothes, enjoying the sensation of air on her skin before she steps into the bathtub. The water sears her flesh at first, but as she becomes used to the heat, it begins to relax her muscles one by one as it scours off the grime that has accumulated over the course of the day.   
  
Sun sighs as she shuffles blearily to the bathroom, wiping her eyes as she goes. She had never been a morning person. Her shirt is already half-unbuttoned and slipping down one shoulder, but she wriggles out of it the complicated way rather than simply unbuttoning the rest before tossing it out of the way of the water and turning the shower on. Highest power, highest temperature, as usual. As the water cascades down her back, she finds herself singing a song that she doesn’t know in a language she has never heard— yet it’s so familiar to her, in the moment she doesn’t even question it. 

 

Kala resists the temptation to dance as she sings, although she knows all of the moves that accompany this particular song. She closes her eyes as she washes her hair, tipping her head back and allowing the water to run down her back, still humming. Her eyes flicker open, lashes wet and dark, and she realises that this is _not_ her bathroom. A quiet, tuneless song echoes from the walls as the water hisses, and her heart begins to hammer along with it all until it builds into some kind of inner cacophony. Kala takes a step back, turning her head slightly, and lets out a yelp as she is met with a very damp, very confused, _very_ naked Korean lady, which in turn makes Kala hyperaware of her own nakedness. She rushes to cover herself as she cringes away from the searching gaze of the woman.   
“Who—“ she manages to get out before she is back in her own bathroom, under her own shower, behind her own curtain. There is a gentle knocking at the door, and a concerned voice.   
“Kala dear, who are you talking to?” Her father asks.  
“No one,” She calls back over the sounds of the water, “just myself, Baba.” he chuckles from behind the door, shouting an okay over his shoulder as he descends the stairs to tend the bustling restaurant below. She hears his footsteps recede, and breathes a sigh of relief.   
  
A few days later, Kala is sitting on her rooftop at night, listening to the pulse of the city from its very heart. There is a moment in which she feels that she can see it all, feel everything that happens in the streets below as if each pedestrian was walking on her own skin, when she finds herself on another rooftop entirely. She is much higher now, the wind tugging at her hair, the grass soft on her bare feet, a small figure sitting cross-legged at the edge. She starts impulsively towards them, but the figure has risen before she has taken more than three steps.  
“Who are you?” They face outwards, away from Kala, but as she draws closer she can tell it’s a woman, her voice deceptively soft, harbouring a threat.   
“My name is Kala. I…” she pauses for a second, taking in her surroundings. “Where am I?” she asks, finally reaching the edge and looking down at the bustling, neon city below her. There are signs that she cannot read but somehow understands, vibrant and screaming all across her vision.   
“Seoul. South Korea. I assumed you’d already know this, considering you’re a hallucination of mine.” The woman says flatly. When Kala gathers enough courage to look at her, she sees the same face that has been stuck in her head for days— dark, fierce eyes; a yellowing shadow of a bruise on her cheekbone; short black hair pulled into a loose ponytail.   
“I am as real as you are.” Kala says, eyes never wandering from the woman’s gaze despite everything new around her that cried out for her attention.   
“Of course you would say that. If you don’t mind, I am just going to sit here and pretend that you don’t exist until you disappear.” 

 

It is Sun who visits Kala next. She comes to her during the night— by accident, of course. Kala is sitting up in her bed, staring into her dark room, thinking of nothing in particular, when Sun appears next to her. She is wearing the same shirt that she has been wearing to bed for the past five nights, and that is all. It is wrinkled and is so large that she seems to shrink inside of it. Kala feels her presence immediately, and turns to face her, switching on her bedside lamp with a frown.  
“I suppose it is me who is hallucinating now.” She says, sighing. Sun does not respond, but she doesn’t leave either. There are a few beats of silence.   
“I have a decision to make.” Sun says, finally. Her voice is hard and cold, and her eyes much the same. “One that will cause me great pain. Or one that will cause great pain to my family.” Kala’s mind flickers to her fiancé.   
“I know the feeling.” Kala replies. Neither of them speak for a long time. In a way, they don’t really have to— Kala is Sun, just as Sun is Kala. They understand one another in ways that transcend words. Sun doesn’t notice when Kala’s hand creeps on top of hers until it disappears, and she is back in her own bed, alone.   
  


The others visit Sun in prison often; Wolfgang drops in the most. Sun thinks to herself a lot about that— perhaps he puts himself there because he feels the most deserving of it. Her innocence makes his guilt burn— not that Sun minds. She quite likes the company. She likes it best when everyone is together, if not physically then at least mentally. When Soo-Jin asked her if she missed her family, Sun had said no. She contemplates that a lot, too. Now, Sun thinks her answer may have changed.   
  
Kala appears beside her, knees drawn up to her chest. She is wearing her pyjamas, floral shorts and a vest top— Sun wonders how she can lean against the damp concrete without so much as a shiver, then she remembers that Kala feels what she feels, and that she feels no discomfort at the cold now. In the back of her mind there a flickering, humid heat, so faint that it could be a memory. Kala lets her head fall backwards onto the concrete wall with a huff, and Sun already knows what the problem is. Kala visits her when she is scared, when she needs to borrow from Sun’s infinite supply of courage, when she is contemplating the confines of her impending marriage. Sun crosses the cell, sliding down the wall to sit wearily beside her. She is tired these days, the purple beneath her eyes almost like bruises, yet she cannot sleep.   
“I’ll learn to love him one day, won’t I?” Kala asks, staring at the wall. Sun feels her heart sink— or Kala’s. She can’t tell.   
“Will you?” Sun replies. It is not the answer that Kala wants to hear. There is silence as the thought hangs between them, heavy, uncomfortable, and silence as Kala gently leans into Sun’s side, head resting on her shoulder. Silence when Sun lets her eyes flicker closed, silence when she finally, _finally_ slips into the embrace of sleep. And there is a silence when she wakes up, cold and sore from her night on the floor, arms and cell empty.  
  
It is early morning, the light soft and pink, the window ajar. Kala’s sighs catch on same the breeze that tugs at her curtains, the soft hush of far away cars barely audible. Sun lies on her back on the clean sheets, enjoying the smell of fresh linen and Kala’s coconut shampoo as her mind flickers between the cell walls and the sunlit room. She can somehow feel both at once, the chill of the concrete seeping up into her bones and the hot, damp breeze of an impending rainstorm on her skin. Kala rolls over, eyes fluttering open. When she sees Sun, she smiles, and her eyes crinkle at the edges.   
“How long have you been here?” She asks, voice slightly scratchy.   
“As long as I have felt you calling for me.” Sun replies, turning her head to meet Kala’s gaze.   
“I was asleep. How could I have…?” Kala trails off.  
“Maybe you were dreaming about me.” Sun suggests, and Kala’s face flushes pink.   
“Maybe.” She hums, before shuffling closer to where Sun lay.   
“Is it okay if I stay a while longer?” Sun asks, looking down at her, “I don’t want to go back to my cell yet.”   
“Of course.” Kala replies, curling into Sun’s side, arm slung over her stomach. She enjoys the warmth and comfort, the feeling of familiarity. She feels the stirrings of something else in her chest, and knows she can’t hide it because Sun feels it too. It is doubled and shared infinitely until it is impossible to distinguish who’s feelings are who’s, amplified until it is almost painful. Sun feels Kala’s guilt, Kala feels Sun’s sadness, and they feel the same soft, empty ache of a touch that isn’t really there.   


Kala has only ever seen Sun cry once.   
“My father,” she says, gaze steely and cold, hot tears running down her cheeks, “he’s getting me out. I finally get to leave.” Kala smiles, although there is a sadness in her eyes.   
“Why do you cry?” she asks, swiping away a tear with her thumb.   
“I’m—“ Sun sniffs, wiping her nose and eyes quickly with the back of her hand. “I’m not crying.” She glowers.   
“What’s this then?” Kala lifts her thumb to the light, where it glints with the wetness of Sun’s tears. Sun’s face softens, and she lets out a breathy laugh. She leans her head back against the concrete wall with a soft sigh, legs stretched out in front of her. Sunlight spills in through the barred window in contained rectangles, and for the first time since she arrived her cell doesn’t feel so cold. Kala looks up at her, eyes wide and doe-like and full of quiet admiration, and when Sun looks at her there is a beat where their gazes lock— they feel the minutes stretch out as if they were being tugged in opposite directions, and Kala feels her face leaning closer and closer and _closer—_ there is a single second of a pause, a moment where their lips hover centimetres apart, the tips of their noses barely touching, and then they’re kissing. Kala feels the echo of her own touch on her body as her hands curl in Sun’s hair, as she feels herself climb onto Sun’s lap— it is wonderful, relieving like those first few gulps of air after a dive in the ocean, but frustratingly intangible. When they finally break apart, panting, smiling, Sun is the first to break the silence.   
“I wish you were here.” She says softly.   
“I am.” Kala replies, gaze flickering between both of Sun’s eyes.   
“No, _really_ here.” Sun says, her smile faltering.   
“Me too.”   
“Inmate Bak Sun!” A harsh voice echoes down the corridor, accompanied by the clomping of boots. Sun looks up, startled, and Kala vanishes. “Talking to yourself again, I see. Maybe I shouldn’t let you out of here.”  
“What is it that you need?” Sun asks coldly.   
“Your time in solitary is over, you can return to your cell now. Come with me.”  
  
Kala is there, standing patiently behind her father, when Sun has to testify against her brother. She cannot bring herself to look at either of them, Joong-Ki bruised and scowling and so full of hatred that she can feel it from across the room, her father’s head hung in shame and disappointment and sorrow. Instead, she stares only at Kala when she speaks, focusing on the gentle, measured look on her face, calming her nerves as she answers each question.   
  
“Bak Sun, your father is here to escort you home.” The guard says, expressionless. Sun moves like a ghost out of the first gate, her own clothes unfamiliar against her skin. Strangely enough, she almost wants to cry. She thinks of her mother in that moment, imagines her sitting behind her, and the disappointment that shadows her face.   
“You promised.” her mother says.   
  
Kala doesn’t even think as she leaves the house, door slamming shut behind her. It is late and hot, and her hair sticks to the back of her neck as she walks away from her home.   
“Kala?” She hears her mother call from out of the open window. She doesn’t turn around, but had she looked she would have seen a concerned face leaning out.   
“Don’t worry, Ma. I’m just going for a walk.” she calls over her shoulder, pace quickening until she disappears around a corner. 

 

Sun returns to her apartment, but it feels wrong. Her dog isn’t there to greet her at the door, the air smells stale, a chill has crept into the very bones of the place in her absence. She shuffles to her room, barely remembering to kick off her shoes before crawling into bed fully clothed. The sheets are freezing to the touch, but warm quickly enough that it is bearable. As she teeters on the brink of sleep, eyes slowly closing, there is a knock at the door. It is urgent and loud, and she grumbles to herself as she rolls over. Whoever it is can wait. The knock sounds again, more impatient this time, and Sun gets up with a huff, pushing her hair out of her eyes.   
“What do you want?” She yells, shuffling to the door and yanking it open in annoyance before remembering that she left the chain latched. She growls, slamming the door closed and fumbling with the chain before swinging it open again. It takes her a moment as her eyes adjust to the dark hallway and her brain catches up with the rest of her, but she quickly realises who is standing before her.   
“Sun.” Kala breathes, bag hanging off her shoulder. She looks tired, her mascara is streaked down her face as if she had been crying, her dark hair is tied into a topknot that flops listlessly to one side, and she is, somehow, smiling.   
“Kala? How— what… Are you really here?” Sun asks, barely able to form words. She is aware, somewhere in her mind, that she is speaking Hindi. Kala doesn’t respond, taking Sun’s hand into her own instead and placing it on her face. They both marvel at solidity of it.   
“Does that answer your question?” Kala half-whispers.  
  
Sun’s sheets have gotten cold again when she finally returns to them. Kala’s skin and hair is damp from her much-needed shower, but she feels clean, safe. Sun turns onto her side so that she is facing inwards, her face inches away from Kala’s.   
“Riley says love inside a cluster is pathological.” Kala whispers. She can feel her heart fluttering in her chest as she speaks.  
“Well, Riley is fucking Will.” Sun says bluntly, before pressing a feverish kiss against Kala’s lips.  


“Good morning.” Kala says upon opening her eyes. The sun blinds them both, the curtains left open all night. The alarm clock blinks on the table beside her, 7am. Sun smiles softly, but keeps her eyes closed.   
“Good morning.” She replies. Kala begins to trace patterns on Sun’s bare skin with her fingertip, admiring each scar, tracing her finger over the lines and wondering about the stories behind each. There is one she find particularly amusing on the right side of Sun’s ribs. Complete with two freckles, she says to Sun as she traces her finger over it, it looks like a smiley face. Sun laughs, shivering at her touch and gently twisting a hand into Kala’s curly hair as she stares at the ceiling.   
“Stay,” she whispers hoarsely, “stay here in Seoul. With me.” when Kala doesn’t respond, she continues. “It doesn’t even have to be here. Just stay with me.” Sun already knows what Kala is about to say before she speaks.   
“What about Rajan?” She whispers, her wandering fingertips finally still.   
“We both know the answer to that.” Sun states softly, twirling a lock of hair around her finger. Kala sighs. “Besides,” she speaks, propping herself up on her elbows, “I’m not as attached to Seoul as you think I am.”  
  
  
The rooftop is hot, humid, familiar to them both. Kala’s parents are impressed by Sun’s knowledge of their house; she doesn’t even ask which way the bathroom is, or even how to get onto the roof.   
“It’s prettier in person.” Sun says, finally breaking the silence as she looks at the streets below.  
“I could say the same about Seoul. Do you miss it?” Kala asks, watching Sun as she takes in the scenery.   
“No. I miss my dog, though.” She replies with a sad smile.   
“Don’t worry. We’ll have him back in a couple of months.   


**Author's Note:**

> hi! Thanks for reading. I honestly ship pretty much everyone with everyone in sense8, but these two are my favourites and absolutely don't get enough love individually, let alone together, so I decided to rectify that. I'm not sure if you found Sun super OOC, but she's hard to write romantically. Hope it isn't too terrible. Either way, let me know.   
> Until next time ;)  
> -Vulpixels


End file.
